Every Man Needs a Spokesperson
by BlissfullySortOfAnonymous
Summary: Ah, the joys of a controlling girlfriend....she'll answer all your questions for you, take care of your personal grooming, and decide just how to spend your money. Poor Fiyero doesn't quite know what to do with himself.


**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.**

**Ok, so my grandma was railing the other day about my uncle's controlling fiancée, and she goes, "But of course, every man needs a spokesperson- didn't you know? Everybody needs someone to talk **_**for**_** him." It was pretty funny at the time, so I thought I'd do a little oneshot with the same theme. **

* * *

"Are you enjoying your food, sir?"

Fiyero swallowed the steak he'd been chewing and started to answer, but was cut off by Galinda's perky voice. "Oh, yes," she gushed animatedly. "Fiyero just _loves_ rib-eye steak, don't you darling?" All he could do was nod mutely; she'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Would you like the check now?"

Fiyero opened his mouth to point out that his plate was still half full, but Galinda beat him to it yet again. "Yes, please." She smiled charmingly at the waiter. "We have an appointment at the Ozdust Boutique in ten minutes. Fiyero's getting a bit of a trim."

Fiyero choked on his food, and Galinda pounded him on the back a few times, still smiling pleasantly. "I am?" he questioned hoarsely when he could speak again.

"Yes, dear. It's getting just a bit too long…here." She fingered a few pieces of his thick blonde hair fondly.

The waiter cleared his throat and presented Galinda with the check. She looked it over with a frown. "Oh, Yero, you'll pay for this, won't you? It's just a bit much for me, and with you being a prince and all…" She shot him her infamous puppy dog eyes, and without waiting for a response, she turned back to the waiter and said, "We'll take it on credit. Put it under Fiyero Tiggular, Prince of the Vinkus."

"Yes, ma'am," the pimple-faced youth agreed, swiping Fiyero's half-finished plate right out from under his nose before the poor, abused prince could get a word in edgewise. Fiyero stared after him incredulously. '_What the…? I'm paying a small fortune for this food, and I don't even get to finish it?'_

As soon as their server was out of earshot, Galinda dropped her elbows onto the table and massaged her temples wearily. "Ugh, I don't know about you, but that nasally voice of his was giving me a migraine. I may just have to speak with the manager about him." With that, her head snapped back up, and she stood abruptly. "Come along, dearest, we don't want to be late for you appointment."

'_We don't?'_ Completely bewildered, Fiyero stood dazedly and followed his girlfriend out of the restaurant, both arms loaded with packages she'd bought. He was the recipient of many sympathetic glances on the way to the salon, which really irked him. He was _Fiyero Tiggular_, for Oz's sakes- he was supposed to be envied, not pitied.

On entering the boutique, Galinda trilled, "Starla, we're here!" A highly made-up and extremely business-like woman with an enormous wad of chewing gum in her mouth sidled over to them, and she and Glinda exchanged air kisses on (or rather, near) each cheek. Then Starla turned to Fiyero and drawled,"So, Galinda, this is your new boy-toy, huh?" She gave him an appraising once-over, thoroughly checking out every visible inch of him through the many bags and boxes that he carried, and concluded decisively,"Definitely the best you've had yet."

"I know, right?? Galinda giggled. Before Fiyero knew what was happening, he was being whisked off to a spinny chair- the kind he would have loved to sit in under any other circumstances. As it was, he was feeling very irritated.

Starla snapped her gum loudly. "So…whaddaya want me to do? I don't know, I mean…he looks pretty hot the way he is; I'm not sure if I can actually improve him."

"Oh, I'm thinking about three inches off here." Galinda pointed. "And then-"

"Three inches?!" Fiyero yelped. '_Great Oz, these crazy women are gonna make me bald!'_

Galinda patted his cheek in a motherly sort of way that didn't help in the slightest to do anything but aggravate him further. "Don't you worry, dearest, I'll take care of everything." She turned her back to him then, and started prattling on and on to Starla. For the next five minutes, she gave what sounded like a detailed description of exactly what she wanted done as far as length and color, poking and prodding at his hair when words weren't enough to show the hairdresser what she meant. Fiyero breathed a sigh of relief when her cell phone finally rang. "Oops! Be right back, darling. Don't you dare start without me!"

She bustled off, and he buried his face in his hands with a groan. "First I pay for food that I didn't get to eat, and now I'm paying for a haircut that I don't even want."

Starla chuckled. "She's a piece of work, isn't she?"

"No, not at all," Fiyero said sarcastically, his voice muffled by his fingers. He sighed in defeat, then tossed his hands up. "But hey, every man needs a spokesperson, right? Everybody needs someone to talk for him."

Starla grinned. "I'll just take off half an inch then, shall I? While she's not looking?"

"That'd be great." Fiyero slumped back in his seat in relief. _'I am a whipped man if ever there was one.'_


End file.
